


Coronation

by tarinumenesse



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Introspection, Light-Hearted, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Secret Engagement (but not for long), no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25526473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: Byleth never imagined that at the close of it all, she would be the one responsible for crowning the king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Or that she would be engaged to that king. She isn’t quite sure how to deal with these new responsibilities, or how to get through the coronation ceremony without revealing her secrets to the entire cathedral.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 20
Kudos: 113





	Coronation

Byleth felt shiny and conspicuous in the archbishop’s robes, the new brass mitre heavy on her head. She supposed it would not be quite so bad if she was not standing in front of the main altar of Garreg Mach cathedral, with all the surviving nobility and the rich merchants of Faerghus, the Alliance, and the former Empire spread before her. But it was that bad, and once more she wondered how she had ended up in such a position, on a day as important as the coronation of the new king of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

At least the people crowding every spare inch of space, save the central aisle, equalled her in their appalling opulence. For example, Felix, in silk and furs. He had been transformed by the title of Duke Fraldarius, and stood tall and with authority at the head of Faerghus’s noble houses. Ingrid and Ashe looked just as splendid, proudly displaying their knight’s uniforms. Annette’s dress was simpler, but the necklace Dedue had given her on their wedding day was more beautiful than the heirlooms adorning the necks of the noblewomen. And Dorothea, who was eying Felix with interest, surpassed those same noblewomen without a single piece of jewellery.

Meanwhile, Sylvain stood oddly silent and still between his father and Felix. His eyes continuously drifted to the left of the nave, where Mercedes stood with other members of the church in her new cleric robes. Old habits died hard, and even with the imminent concern of the ceremony, Byleth found herself wondering why Sylvain looked so upset, and why Mercedes seemed to be trying to look anywhere but back at him, and whether their behaviour had anything to do with the Margrave guarding the space between them like a wyvern.

At that moment, the trumpets sounded and the choir began to sing. Byleth whipped her eyes towards the cathedral doors. In doing so, she caught sight of Seteth and Flayn, in the foremost row of seating. Seteth’s arms were crossed and his brow furrowed, a sure sign of his anxiety over how the ceremony would go. But Flayn, beautiful Flayn, pumped her fists in encouragement. It caused Byleth to smile, and Seteth to throw his daughter a disapprovingly look. Flayn grinned sheepishly.

The exchanged sparked an ache in Byleth’s chest. She missed her father. She had so much to tell him, so much to discuss. Here she was, archbishop, occupying the place of a person whom Jeralt had feared. The words of his diary were never far from her mind.

The cathedral doors opened and the rumble of the crowd outside drifted into the church. A moment later, Dimitri’s retinue appeared, led by his standard bearer. Because of the size of the flag, Byleth couldn’t see Dimitri. Somehow that made her nerves worse. She took a breath and twisted her hands together to stop them from trembling.

Then, when the procession reached the apse and the standard bearer turned away to the left, Byleth suddenly saw him. Dimitri looked up and smiled, his blue eye sparkling. A feeling of safety flowed through her.

As he took the final few steps towards Byleth, Dimitri held out his hands slightly, as though to ask her how he looked. Byleth pursued her lips. He looked…different. His hair had been gathered into a queue, with the bangs pushed back and pinned so they didn’t fall in his face. It allowed Byleth to admire, as though for the first time, the strong shape of his jaw, the gentle curve of his lips. She noticed with amusement that someone had attempted to hide the marks of exhaustion under his eyes with cosmetics. (Dorothea—it must have been Dorothea. Byleth wished she had been present to witness that exchange, but she had been enduring Mercedes’s attempts to do the same to her.)

Dimitri was wearing his armour, but it had been cleaned and polished so the only marks of battle remaining were the worst of the nicks and dents. Seteth had insisted upon that; he claimed that building Dimitri’s reputation as the saviour of Fódlan was vital to ensuring stability. But the cape Dimitri had worn into battle was today replaced by the coronation robe of Faerghus, and instead of Areadbhar, too large and cumbersome for ceremony, he carried a sword and a dagger.

He looked…handsome.

Byleth was forced to push down the giggle that resulted from her errant thought, knowing the accompanying grin escaped. She could not imagine what blasphemy Seteth would call down upon her if she laughed in the middle of the coronation. But Dimitri did not help the cause; his mouth twitched in curiosity, and instead of looking serious and as though he felt the burden of his impending duty, he beamed at her as he finally stopped only a few feet away.

Byleth lifted her hand, pausing a moment at the place where Dimitri’s ring was hidden beneath her robes. It had been a pleasant weight around her neck ever since the early hours of the morning, when she had returned to her rooms, put it on a chain, and hidden it beneath her nightgown. Dimitri’s eye widened. He rested his hand over his heart, revealing he had done the same with her father’s ring.

It was a precious and thrilling secret, and Byleth couldn’t help but savour it, for the few hours more that it was theirs.

As the choir fell silent, Byleth lifted her eyes from her betrothed. Dedue, standing behind Dimitri to the right, nodded at her, as he had promised. It was time to begin.

Byleth took a deep breath.

“I present to you Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, your king, to whom you have come to swear fealty and service today,” Byleth said. She focussed on projecting her voice as far as possible, like Dorothea had taught her. “Do you intend to do so?”

The response sounded from the nobles of all three nations. Byleth turned back to Dimitri. He looked as though he was trying to be grave, but was failing completely, his grin gradually widening. Thank heavens Seteth could not see his face.

“Are you willing to take the oath?” Byleth asked, trying to scold him using only her eyes.

“I am willing,” Dimitri replied.

His voice was strong and clear despite his struggle his maintain solemnity. Byleth wished that she possessed that skill, the trademark of the nobility.

The bishop Seteth had nominated to assist with the ceremony stepped forward and passed Byleth an elaborately bound copy of the Book of Seiros. She held it out, with one hand on top and the other underneath. Dimitri placed his hands over hers, as the ceremony dictated. Byleth’s stomach fluttered, her whole being warmed by his touch. Colour rose in Dimitri’s face as he met her eyes.

Byleth bit her lip to stop her smile, deciding that it would be a miracle if they made it through the rest of the coronation without the entire cathedral learning of their engagement.

“Your Highness,” she began, forcing the butterflies down and seeing Seteth raise an eyebrow at the accompanying hiccup in her voice, “will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the people of all Fódlan, united as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, according to their traditions and customs?”

There was a murmur from the place where the Adrestian and Leicester nobles were sitting. Byleth hoped it meant that the careful changes made to the oath had pleased them.

“I will,” Dimitri said.

With those words, Dimitri’s demeanour changed slightly. An earnestness emerged in his expression and voice, reflecting his fervent desire to do right. It made Byleth proud.

“Will you, to the utmost of your ability and power, live according to the words of Seiros, the one graced with the holy message of the divine goddess?” she asked.

“I will.”

“Will you promise to abide by the law of your Kingdom, and to reign with mercy, justice, and impartiality for all, regardless of origin, status or creed?”

“I do so solemnly promise.”

The bishop stepped forward again. Dimitri released the Book of Seiros, deliberately brushing his fingers across the back of Byleth’s hand. It sent new shivers up her spine, and she quickly turned away to exchange the book for the Kingdom’s sceptre.

Dedue was placing a cushion on the ground in front of Dimitri when Byleth turned back. Dimitri knelt down upon it and clasped his hands together, bowing his head to receive the blessing. Byleth extended her arms, the sceptre lying horizontally across her palms.

“Goddess, who sees, hears and receives all,” she recited, “she who is all things. She who created all and through her messenger Seiros revealed her words to the people of Fódlan.”

As Byleth spoke, she noticed Seteth mouthing the words along with her. Although he had insisted on not being part of the formalities, she knew he had been worried about her ability to remember everything. It nearly made her laugh to see him ready to provide the correct words should she fumble.

“Seiros, who received the grace of the goddess and bore witness to the goddess’s blessing. Sanctify your chosen one and consecrate him as king.”

Byleth lowered her arms so that Dimitri could take hold of the sceptre with his right hand.

“May you rule with the wisdom of Saint Indech and the reason of Saint Macuil,” she said. “Show to your subjects the compassion of Saint Cichol and the empathy of Saint Cethleann.”

Byleth released the sceptre. Dimitri lowered it to his side as the bishop hurried forward with the crown.

It was when Byleth placed a hand on either side of the crown and lifted it that the truth of her situation struck her. Throughout the entire service, she had been so distracted by Dimitri, so worried about getting things right, that she had not considered what it actually meant. She, the Ashen Demon, a one-time professor, the child of a mercenary and a nun, was engaged to the soon-to-be king of Faerghus. After a bloody war, a victory grasped from the jaws of defeat—at the close of it all she would be archbishop of the Church of Seiros and queen of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. Two positions of power that directed the fate of an entire continent.

Byleth’s mind blanked.

A memory of Sothis emerged amongst the white. The girl who had claimed to be the goddess, who had gifted Byleth power beyond imagining and merged them into one being, to save both their lives. Even now, Sothis’s voice remained silent. If it did not, perhaps Byleth would feel capable of this task. How could she bear the burden of this responsibility alone?

Byleth looked up at the crowd of strange and vacant faces. Waiting, expectant. She held still, unsure of what to do.

Then Seteth nodded sharply at her, gesturing to the man kneeling before her. Byleth looked down. Dimitri was watching her, concern across his features, his gaze filled with love.

“Beloved?” he mouthed, clearly recognising her moment of panic.

With that one word, Byleth’s uncertainty subsided. She and Dimitri had achieved so much together. They would be able to do more, she was sure, if they continued on as they were.

“By the power of the goddess and the authority of Seiros, I crown you lord and king over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and all Fódlan,” Byleth said, her voice carrying through the cathedral, as she lowered the crown onto Dimitri’s head. “Those wings clear your path, that voice whispers words of trust. May the blessings of the goddess follow you, always.”

With that, Byleth’s role in the day’s events was complete. She had not realised how tense her body was until the pressure lifted from her shoulders. It was over, and she had not embarrassed herself. Seteth even smiled at her as Dedue stepped forward and helped Dimitri to his feet.

A cheer rose from the people as Dimitri faced them and the standard bearer took up the call.

“His Majesty the King, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus!”

Now, Dimitri would proceed down the nave and out the doors of the cathedral to be introduced to the people gathered in the grounds of the monastery. Byleth backed away, relieved that the next time she saw him it would be without formalities.

But instead of leaving, Dimitri turned to her.

Byleth raised her eyebrows, questioning. Still holding the sceptre in his right hand (to transfer it or put it down would be a violation that would surely send Seteth to the grave), Dimitri stepped up to her. He took her hand with his left one, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it.

A buzz erupted through the crowd as Byleth’s face began to burn. She did not think she had ever blushed before, but now she was certain that she did, and the entire nobility of Fódlan were present to witness it.

Dimitri, goddess take him, looked pleased with himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he released Byleth’s hand and walked down the nave without glancing back, Dedue close behind.

Byleth remained rooted to the spot as the nobles trailed after them. Felix threw her a smirk as he followed the procession. Dorothea blew her a kiss. Mercedes and Sylvain both looked unsurprised and a little wistful. Flayn was clapping her hands, bursting with excitement. Seteth, unexpectedly, appeared nonplussed by the breach of protocol, while Ashe looked like he was composing a romantic ballad on the spot. Ingrid rolled her eyes.

Annette stepped up beside Byleth and took her hand.

“He’s so happy that he can’t keep it to himself,” she said.

“But he didn’t need to do that in front of everyone,” Byleth protested.

Annette giggled. “I think you may have to get used to it!”

Byleth sincerely hoped that she did not. It was quite difficult enough to contain herself, and her emotions, when Dimitri behaved like that in private. Having to do the same in public might kill her.

“Accept it.”

Seteth’s voice was soft as he joined Byleth and Annette.

“Accept and cherish it,” he continued. “Return it. You do not know what lies ahead.”

Byleth smiled and nodded as the crowd outside roared, announcing they had seen their new king. Seteth held his arm out to Byleth.

“Come, let’s go and cheer the king,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in August last year, just after finishing my first play through of the game, and it has been sitting in my completed folder ever since. No specific reason for not posting it, I just...didn't? Anyway, I figured today was the perfect day to share it! Happy anniversary Three Houses! Thanks for blessing us with all the goodness.
> 
> If anyone is interested, I based the coronation ceremony on that of England (easy and lazy I know) and merged in text from the library books in game.


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